


Heated Argument

by celt_the_flame_3110



Series: The Marching Band AU 'verse [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Has a Crush, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Eddie Kaspbrak, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Marching Band, Mutual Pining, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier Has a Crush, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Soft Richie Tozier, Something happened and i have to retype all of the tags, Swearing, Unresolved, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, for now wink wink, i hate everything, i hope this is everything I typed before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celt_the_flame_3110/pseuds/celt_the_flame_3110
Summary: Richie and Eddie were known to bicker, tease each other, and make jokes at each other’s expense. They were even known to throw in the occasional swear every now and then. Sometimes, they would even insult each other so viciously that feelings should’ve gotten hurt. Despite all of this everyone knew, especially Richie and Eddie, that the two were never serious and it was all in good fun.However the way they were speaking to each other now was so full of venom and so absent of any facetiousness, that there was no way either of them could be joking. They were serious this time and they meant every word.OrRichie and Eddie are hot, tired, and thirsty at marching band practice. They fight and stuff happens.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Marching Band AU 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590559
Comments: 13
Kudos: 174





	Heated Argument

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, something that isn't a one shot? Something that's the first part of a series? Something that has a (semi) coherent plot and an overarching story?
> 
> Yes, yes, and yes.
> 
> Is this the marching band au fanfic that anyone asked for?
> 
> No.
> 
> But is this the marching band au fanfic that everyone wanted/needed?
> 
> Also no.
> 
> So if anyone, for some reason, wanted a Reddie centric fanfic where the Loser's Club is in a marching band, here it is. 
> 
> Also a quick warning. If you get grossed out over descriptions of throwing up, maybe skip this one. It isn't in depth or anything but I use a few synonyms for it. So, be aware of that.
> 
> I think that's all of the irrelevant things I wanted to say (for now lol). Enjoy!

“Ayee, Eduardo. Can you get me some more water?”

“Get it yourself. My feet are  _ killing  _ me.”

Six of the seven losers were sitting in a circle in the grassy area beside the practice field, sipping water from Dixie cups. They were taking their ten minute water break at marching band practice. Typically they were only allotted a five minute break but the band director, Mr. Frost, extended it due to the heat on this particular afternoon. It was August but the heat made it feel like July never ended. The weather was taking  _ way  _ too long to cool down.

Ben was lying with his head in Beverly’s lap as she played with his hair, his saxophone lying in the grass beside them. She was wistfully watching the color guard girls talking with each other and laughing. 

Beverly  _ really _ wanted to audition for color guard this year but anyone who wanted to audition for color guard had to have a year of marching experience under their belt. So, for now, she would have to be content with playing the flute. She was already practicing to audition next year.

Mike was opening the spit valve on his trombone so he could clean it. Bill was looking around for Stan, who had left three minutes ago to get more water. Richie was lying on his back staring up at the clouds, or the lack thereof. Eddie was sitting beside him, looking down at his friend in annoyance. 

“How are  _ your _ feet killing you?” Richie asked skeptically. “You don’t even move. You just…  _ stand  _ there.”

“Hey, at least you guys get to move around,” Eddie griped. “I have to stand in the same fucking spot for all of practice! That’s  _ way  _ worse on your feet than having to march.”

“Like you would know, asshole.” Richie spat.

“I  _ do  _ know! Because I’m in the Front Ensemble, dumbass!” Eddie seethed. 

The losers stared at the two in disbelief. 

Richie and Eddie were known to bicker, tease each other, and make jokes at each other’s expense. They were even known to throw in the occasional swear every now and then. Sometimes, they would even insult each other so viciously that feelings should’ve gotten hurt. Despite all of this everyone knew, especially Richie and Eddie, that the two were never serious and it was all in good fun. 

However the way they were speaking to each other now was so full of venom and so absent of any facetiousness, that there was no way either of them  _ could  _ be joking. They were serious this time and they meant  _ every word. _

“You’ve never marched before, Eddie,” Richie said, finally sitting up and making direct eye contact with his friend. “It’s way harder than anything you idiots have to do.”

“Harder than having to load the box truck?” Eddie asked, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “You battery percussionists only have to load your drum and your hat. That’s it!  _ We _ have to load the marimba, the gong, the vibraphone, and so much other shit. And don’t even get me started on the fact that  _ you _ assholes never help us load the uniform carts  _ or _ the props. You just… drop off your shit and bounce!”

Eddie’s voice steadily increased in volume, attracting the attention of nearby band members. 

“Yeah, because it’s  _ so _ hard to load things that have wheels. What a hardship! You have to  _ push _ things onto the box truck. My case doesn’t even  _ have _ wheels. I have to  _ carry  _ my bass drum onto the damn truck!”

“Well at least you only have  _ one  _ thing. Each of us has to load  _ multiple _ things onto the truck! Also the wheels aren’t even that helpful. They’re old and hard to control. I have to put all of my weight into pushing the damn thing so it doesn’t run into something!”

If Mr. Frost was around at the moment, he would’ve ordered both of them to drop for push ups. Thankfully for them, he was currently in the bathroom.

Bill spotted Stan in the distance. He was arguing with a section leader while she was trying to tell him something. Based on Stan’s body language, Bill knew that whatever she was telling him was wrong. 

Thankful for an excuse to escape the current fiasco, he quietly stood, picked up his trumpet, and left to prevent his boyfriend from getting in trouble. 

“Well you guys don’t even have to wear hats!” Richie shouted. “Do you know how hard it is to keep those stupid things straight?”

“Well at least you actually  _ like _ the section you’re in!”

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault your lungs suck so badly that you can’t even breathe well enough to march!”

Eddie’s face flushed red in anger and his eyes began to water.

“Well at least I’m not annoying as fuck...” Eddie growled.

Richie laughed without a trace of humor and swung back with, “Well, at least  _ I’m _ not ugly!”

Eddie’s eyes spilled over with tears and he muttered, “Go to Hell, asshole…” before standing up and darting away.

Immediately regretting everything he had said in the past five minutes, Richie buried his face in his hands and let out a quiet groan.

Bill returned with a frustrated Stan in tow.

“She said it was  _ flat _ , Bill,” Stan muttered. “My clarinet wasn’t flat! I tuned it before practice began.”

“You d-do know that instruments c-can b-b-become out of tune d-during practice, right?” Bill asked.

“ _ Obviously _ I know that! I can tell when it’s out of tune and it  _ isn’t _ right now!”

When the two returned to where their friends were sitting they saw Eddie was gone, Richie looked incredibly sad, and the other three looked immensely uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Stan asked, his earlier anger now forgotten.

Before anyone could say anything Richie shook his head slightly and left the circle, his empty Dixie cup long forgotten.

He couldn’t believe he made Eddie cry.  _ Eddie _ . The same kid who took all of Richie’s jabs in stride. The same kid who returned verbal fire just as violently as Richie threw it at him. The same kid that when Richie once called him, “A good argument for birth control,” Eddie just cackled and responded with, “At least I’m not part of the statistics for birth control failure.”

Richie didn’t even mean to hurt his feelings. Even though their argument was fueled by the heat, tiredness, and dehydration, Richie never meant to hurt him. He was surprised that the insult struck a chord with Eddie. It was mostly a warm-up insult while he tried to think of a better one.

Richie jogged into the school building and to the boy’s bathroom. He checked every stall to find them all empty (Mr. Frost must have gone to his office to get something). After leaving the bathroom and searching the whole inside area of the school building (that was unlocked, anyway), he decided to search outside for his friend.

Richie searched outside for a good five minutes (according to his wrist watch) and was about to return to practice, when he heard a quiet sniffling sound accompanied by some labored breathing.

He glanced up and saw Eddie sitting on a branch of the huge oak tree that stood outside of their school. Eddie’s eyes widened as he stared at Richie and his knuckles were white on the branch in a death grip. He was gasping for air and his fanny pack was on the ground below him. 

_ Fuck _

Richie dashed forward and grabbed the pack off of the ground, noticing the broken strap.

“I’m coming up there Eds, so don’t freak out.” Richie warned.

Eddie managed a nod in response.

Richie wrapped his arms around the trunk and scaled it until he was able to grab the branch Eddie was sitting on. He swung up and gently landed on the branch to where he was sitting across from Eddie. The bough sagged slightly due to Richie’s weight being added to it. Since all of Richie’s weight was in his lanky limbs and Eddie barely weighed anything at all, the branch held firm and didn’t snap under their combined weight.

Richie unzipped the fanny pack and grabbed the inhaler. Richie stuck the device into Eddie’s open mouth and puffed the HydrOx down his throat. Richie removed the inhaler and let Eddie hold his breath sufficiently in order for the “medicine” to take effect. 

When Eddie exhaled and began to breathe properly, he muttered, “Thanks…” begrudgingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spaghetti man.” Richie shrugged.

Before Eddie could protest the use of the nickname, Richie asked, “Are you okay?”

Now that Richie was closer he could see Eddie’s eyes were red rimmed and there were obvious tear tracks on his face.

“No,” Eddie finally sighed. “I’m really not.”

“Is it because of what I said?” 

Eddie nodded, refusing to make eye contact.

“Fuck, Eds. I’m sorry,” Richie apologized. “Being in the front ensemble must be hard. You guys have problems just like the rest of the band does and for me to brush off those problems like they’re nothing was-”

“That’s not what I’m upset about, asshole.” Eddie grumbled, still not looking at Richie.

“I know, I’m getting to that,” Richie assured him. “I’m sorry for calling you ugly. I didn’t mean to make you cry and shit. I’m honestly surprised you got so upset over it.”

“How did it surprise you?” Eddie inquired with an adorable head tilt.

_ Cute, cute, cute, _ Richie thought. 

“Because you usually don’t get upset over my insults, since you know they’re bullshit anyway.” Richie explained.

“Well, that one  _ wasn’t. _ ” Eddie scoffed.

“What are you talking about?” Richie asked, dumbfounded.

“I  _ am _ ugly. You were right.”

“Who the fuck told you that you were ugly?” 

“Um...you?”

“Besides me, smartass.” 

Eddie thought for a moment and finally replied, “No one  _ had _ to tell me, I just  _ know. _ ”

“If you think you’re ugly, you don’t know  _ anything _ .” Richie said.

Eddie stared at his friend in confusion, not knowing how to respond to that.

Richie thought that Eddie was the most beautiful boy he ever laid eyes on. The fact that Eddie thought of himself as ugly broke Riche’s heart. Richie was sure there was a joke about Eddie’s mom being hot in there somewhere but, since now wasn’t the time to make jokes, he decided not to look for it.

“Maybe  _ you’re _ the one who doesn’t know anything.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie wasn’t sure how he was going to make Eddie feel better without revealing how he felt about him, but he was going to try.

“Eddie,” Richie sighed, “Look at me.”

Eddie continued to stare at the ground.

“Eds,” Richie said softly. “Please look at me.”

Eddie complied begrudgingly, finally making full eye contact with Richie.

“You are the exact opposite of ugly,” Richie began. “I’m going to be honest. There are many things about your appearance that I’m jealous of.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie scoffed. “What could you  _ possibly _ be jealous of?”

Richie’s heartbeat started picking up speed as he tried to think of what to say next.

_ Be honest with him _ , he thought.

“Well, your hair is one thing,” Richie began. “I know it’s normally straight because you use gel in it. On the days you forget to or just don’t feel like it, it looks really nice. Like today.”

Eddie reached up and touched the top of his head self consciously. He totally forgot that he didn’t want to put up with the hassle of fixing his hair this morning. So, he just let stay curly. 

Richie extended his hand towards his friend and replaced Eddie’s hand with his own. He slowly brushed his long fingers through the brown curls, earning a relaxed sigh from Eddie.

“It’s really soft, too,” Richie murmured, almost reverently. “I could probably play with it all day if you wanted me to.”

Eddie hummed as all the remaining tension fell from his shoulders. Richie kept moving his hand as Eddie relaxed further into his touch.

“Your eyes are the perfect shade of brown,” Richie continued. “They look fucking  _ golden _ when the sunlight hits them. Even when no sun hits them at all, they look… pretty.”

Richie internally cringed at his poor choice of adjectives ( _ Seriously, man?! How obvious can you be?! _ ) but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Eddie seemed to brighten up just a little more with every compliment.

“Your hands are really tiny,” Richie said, taking one of them in his free hand. “Which is not only  _ super _ cute but also really useful. You, thankfully, don’t have to know how hard it is to wash small cups with my giant ass hands.”

Eddie giggled and Richie beamed at him.

“I also love that. Your laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard. It goes really well with your dazzling smile.”

“Which one do you like better?” Eddie asked, drunk on Richie’s touch.

“That’s like asking if I like peanut butter or chocolate better. They’re both  _ amazing _ and I’m indecisive as fuck! Just give me a Reese’s cup and don’t make me choose!”

Eddie cackled and Richie’s smile only grew wider. 

Richie loved this boy so much. He really wanted to tell Eddie that but he was too big of a coward to admit it. Confessing your feelings to your crush took bravery and that was one of the things Richie didn’t have. It also didn’t help that Derry was extremely homophobic; Bill and Stan have a hard enough time dating here.

Richie slowly took his hand from Eddie’s hair as Eddie calmed down from laughing so hard.

“Your legs are really nice too,” Richie admitted. “I’m surprised more girls don’t check you out when you wear those running shorts.”

Eddie’s face flushed pink at that comment and he timidly asked, “Which pair looks the best?”

Richie swallowed as he tried not to ogle at the electric blue pair Eddie currently had on. 

_ He probably has a pair in every color…  _ Richie thought dumbly.

“The red ones…” Richie muttered.

Richie could feel his face heat up after he answered, a fresh rush of adrenaline causing his heartbeat to pick up the pace. He forced himself to check his wrist watch, so he wasn’t looking at Eddie’s pretty flushed face, and his own face immediately cooled down.

“Fuck…” Richie whispered.

“What?”

“Our break has been over for five minutes…”

“Fuck!”

Richie, in one graceful move, hopped down from the tree branch. He landed softly on his feet and glanced back up at Eddie, who wasn’t making any moves to get down.

“Dude, we have to go!” Richie exclaimed, panicked.

“I know.”

“Then what are you waiting for?!”

“Um… I can’t get down…”

“Then how did you get up there?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was so hyped up on adrenaline that I didn’t realize what I was doing.”

Richie laughed.

“Stop laughing! I need help!” Eddie whined.

“Okay, okay” Richie giggled. “I’ll help you.”

Richie walked forward to where he was standing under Eddie and opened his arms.

“Go ahead and jump.” Richie said.

“What?” Eddie squeaked. 

“Go ahead and jump,” Richie repeated with a reassuring smile. “I’ll catch you. You won’t get hurt.”

“You promise?” Eddie asked.

Richie looked into Eddie’s enlarged eyes and saw how much Eddie trusted him.

Richie would catch him, even if it was the last thing he did on this earth.

“I promise.” Richie soothed.

Eddie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let himself fall from the branch.

Richie quickly stepped back a couple steps and successfully caught Eddie in his arms. Eddie grasped onto Richie’s shoulders and buried his face in Richie’s neck, letting out a relieved breath.

Even though they had to get going in an attempt to avoid the Wrath of the Band Director™, Richie waited for Eddie’s breathing to even out. Richie held Eddie in his arms, running a hand through his hair, until Eddie let go. 

Richie let Eddie land softly on the grass before they both took off in a sprint toward the practice field. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble!” Eddie wheezed.

“Trust me, Eds. You won’t get in trouble.” Richie assured him.

“How… do you… know?” Eddie asked in between gasps of air.

“I’m going to distract him. Then you can sneak over to your spot in the pit.”

“You can just let me get in trouble too. We can use my asthma as an excuse.”

“No way.  _ I’m _ the reason you ran away crying in the first place. So, in essence,  _ I’m _ the reason you’re late. Also adults in Derry are so callous, I doubt he’ll be understanding about your asthma. Let me take the fall for this one, okay?”

Knowing there was no way Eddie could talk Richie out of this, Eddie nodded.

Eddie crouched behind a garbage can that sat near the practice field. The band had just finished running through the first song of the show and everyone was still standing at attention. Even though nobody was allowed to move their head, Richie could feel everyone looking at him through their peripheral vision. All was silent save for Richie’s pounding steps on the grass as he bolted to the far side of the practice field. 

“At ease.” Mr. Frost told the rest of the band.

Everyone relaxed and turned to look at Richie, who was picking up his bass drum and slipping the harness onto his torso. Since he had to keep Mr. Frost distracted while Eddie took his place, Richie didn’t move to his spot on the field.

“Care to explain why you’re late, Mr. Tozier?” Mr. Frost asked tensely.

“Why I’m late is irrelevant, sir,” Richie answered with a smile. “I actually have a question to ask you.”

Mr Frost sighed, “Richie. I don’t have time for any of your-”

“Do you remember the time when you told us, ‘That performance was  _ horrible! _ My mother could do better than that and she’s  _ dead!’ _ Does that ring any bells?”

The decent impression of Mr. Frost earned a few laughs from the band.

“Yes, I do. Why?”

Richie glanced up and he saw Eddie was halfway to the Front Ensemble set up and he knew Eddie needed more time.

“Well, it’s a shame your mother is deceased. I’m really sorry for your loss by the way. I wish she were still alive.” Richie said.

“That’s a kind sentiment, Richie.” Mr. Frost responded without any emotion.

“I wish she were still alive so I could f-”

Richie then proceeded to describe in lewd and vulgar detail all of the things he wanted to do to Mr. Frost’s mom. A few band members had to hold back laughter but most of them looked  _ severely  _ uncomfortable/horrified. Beverly covered her mouth with a hand, Stan narrowed his eyes at Richie’s stupidity, Bill squeezed his eyes shut, Mike busied himself with his spit valve again, and Ben’s eyes were glued to the ground. The only loser who didn’t look uncomfortable was Eddie. As Eddie slipped quietly back to his position, he hid a fond smile behind his hand. 

After Eddie was where he was supposed to be Richie stopped showing his ass, only to be laid into by Mr. Frost. This lasted for a good few minutes before practice finally resumed.

***

When practice ended, Eddie loaded his share of the pit equipment back inside as quickly as possible. 

Since none of the other band members seemed to notice he was even gone in the first place, he thankfully never got in trouble. At first he thought it was  _ really _ stupid that Richie decided to “take the fall” for both of them, especially like  _ that. _ Then, when he realized his mother would kill him for getting into trouble and she would  _ actually _ kill him if she found out he had been  _ running, _ he realized the decision really wasn’t that stupid. 

Eddie was already stupidly happy that Richie, his long-time crush, complimented him and made him feel beautiful for the first time in a  _ long _ time. Also since Richie was willing to damage his relationship with a teacher that already wasn’t a fan of him for Eddie’s sake, Eddie was absolutely  _ ecstatic. _

When he finished taking everything back to the band room, Eddie came back outside and waited for Richie while he ran laps around the practice field as punishment. 

When Mr. Frost was finally satisfied with how much Richie ran, he sternly dismissed him with a “See you tomorrow.”

Eddie held Richie’s hair out of his face as he threw up all of his lunch into a garbage can. Eddie grimaced at the grotesque nature of the situation but, since he loved Richie, he decided to stay with him.

When Richie finished emptying his stomach, he bent over to pick up his bass drum. Before he could grab it, Eddie picked it up and slid the harness onto his own torso. Thankfully, it wasn’t as heavy as Eddie thought it would be.

Richie opened his mouth to protest but Eddie held up a hand to silence him.

“I know you can carry it but that doesn’t mean you  _ should. _ You just spent five whole minutes regurgitating all of your stomach acid into the trash. I’ll put this away for you and you can go get your book bag from your locker.  _ Do not _ leave without me. We’re going to the same place anyway and the last thing I want is for you to collapse on your way home.”

“Are you sure you can carry that drum? It’s as big as you are.” Richie joked with a weak smile.

The running he had to do seemed to take all of the remaining energy out of him. His eyelids were growing heavy and he looked like he could drop, then immediately fall asleep on the hard, uncomfortable ground.

“If you didn’t look so pathetic right now, I would put this harness on you backwards and make you carry this drum back to the band room like a turtle.” Eddie retorted with narrowed eyes. 

Richie laughed so hard he started coughing and almost dry heaved.

Eddie rubbed a hand up and down Richie’s back until he finally calmed down. When Richie didn’t look like he would get sick again, Eddie wrapped one of his arms around Richie’s shoulders and helped him into the school building. 

A couple hours later, they were relaxing in Richie’s bedroom after finishing their homework. Richie’s head was in Eddie’s lap as he gently massaged Richie’s scalp. When Eddie was positive Richie was asleep he pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Richie’s forehead and whispered, “Thanks, Rich.”

**Author's Note:**

> Addressing a couple of possible concerns.
> 
> I know how insecurities work, I've had them for years. I know a few compliments won't make Eddie's insecurities go away for good but, since Richie is his crush and friend, they will make him feel good for a while.
> 
> Also if anyone wants to say their reactions to possibly getting in trouble are exaggerated, they aren't. I was in marching band in high school and, anyone who is/was in band can tell you, you do NOT want to make a band director mad. Being on time to practices and events is CRUCIAL to them. Our band director had a motto: Early is on time, on time is late, late is dead.
> 
> I think that covers everything.


End file.
